Happy Birthday Phapha!
by Miss Mouche
Summary: It is Mustapha's sixteeth birthday and the Bohemians will try to have a relativly civil party... sort of. This was going to be a one-shot, but now it's going to be in 3 parts.
1. Part 1: Have Your Cake and Eat it too!

**So, I had spoken with my lovely friend Charlie Louie, and she let me write a one shot featuring her Bohemian character Mustapha! If you haven't read any of her WWRY stories... Well... You should and that's that! **

**This was going to be a one-shot... but I just have too many ideas for it. So it will probably be in three parts.**

Mustapha, isn't mine. WWRY isn't mine... I'm not sure what exactly is mine anymore! *runs away screaming and hides in a corner in the fetal position* 

_______________________________________________________________________________

" Happy birthday, dear Mustapha..." the crowd of Bohemians all sang loudly and off key to the laughing, pink haired girl sitting in the center of the group. " Happy birthday, tooooo...YOUUUUUUU!!!!"

" Awww guys!" Mustapha squealed when Meat placed a slightly lumpy looking, lopsided cake on the table. It had sixteen flaming candles sitting on top of it. " It looks great!" She blew out the candles and the group cheered.

" You might not wanna eat it though, Scaramouche and Meat made it!" Pop joked, wincing when he got a sharp punch to the arm courtesies of the bad-arsed babe.

" Hey! We worked hard on that cake, so you better eat it Phapha!" Scaramouche said, giving her a false threatening glare.

" Yer should have seen how all the others looked before this one hen." Meat sighed, placing a hand on Mustapha's shoulder. " Compared to the others, this one deserves to be put in a five star restaurant."

" I helped find the candles!" Galileo cried out, wanting to throw in his contribution.

" Oh yes Gazza, if it wasn't for you the whole party would have fallen apart!" Scaramouche snorted, rolling her eyes at the Dreamer. He cast her a a hurt and confused look and she shook head slightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek, patting his arm.

" No guys, this is all really great!" Mustapha said, smiling brilliantly up at her "family". " I've never been happier!"

As if to prove the point, she scooped up a large amount of chocolate frosting off of the cake and licked it off of her finger then stood up and ran over to hug them all. She first threw her arms around Galileo and Scaramouche in unison and hugged them tightly, she then turned to Meat and almost squeezed the life out of her.

"No hugs yet hen, we're not even half finished with ye yet!" Meat laughed, smiling down at her.

" Yeah, you gotta open your presents!" Madonna called, elbowing her way through the group and shoving a lumpy looking parcel under her nose.

" Come on Mads, let the girl have her cake first!" Aretha scoffed from next to her.

" Fine." Madonna pouted. " But you better open mine first!"

" She means ours!" Aretha corrected. " It's from all the girls, to celebrate the fact that your almost a woman!"  
Scaramouche's brow crinkled in confusion. " I didn't know about this!" she said, glaring at the others. " What, I suddenly don't qualify as a girl?"

Aretha and Madonna glanced nervously at each other than over at the purple haired Bohemian. Mustapha raised an eyebrow at them and Meat took a step back with an " I'm not getting into this cause it will only cause trouble" look on her face.

" Well..." Madonna began " If you knew about what we where going to give to Mustapha..."

" You probably wouldn't let us do it..." Aretha finished.

All was quiet for a few seconds. Scaramouche was glaring at Aretha and Madonna, looking like she was going to bite their heads off. Mustapha opened her mouth to say something, then Galileo spoke up.

" Wait... Why would you want to celebrate the fact that she's half way to becoming a women?" he asked, confusion etched on his face. " Why not just wait until she's 18 and a legal adult?"

" What's the fun of doing things the legal way?" Mustapha stated bluntly. She reached towards the parcel in Madonna's hand. " Now you've peeked my interest, I want to see what you got me!"

" No your not!" Scaramouche said, snatching the parcel away from Madonna. " Not until I know what it is!

Scaramouche grabbed Aretha's arm and dragged her out of the room, bringing the gift with her. Mustapha let out a sigh and blew her scruffy pink fringe out of her eyes.

" Aw come one sugar, ye still have yer cake!" Meat said.

" Yeah, and there is still the other presents!" Galileo said, nodding towards a small pile of gifts in the corner of the room.

Mustapha paused, thinking it over for a few seconds. She then smiled and nodded.

" Yeah your right, I still have so much! I didn't even expect a party!" she said, sitting back down in front of the cake. She sized it up momentarily and Meat handed her a knife.

" Who wants the first piece?" Mustapha asked, looking over at the group.

The Bohemians all glanced around at each other, mumbling, then stared down at the lumpy cake. It seemed like Mustapha was the only one impressed with Scaramouche's and Meat's culinary skills.

" Oh come on!" Meat growled, rolling her eyes. " We're not that bad at cooking!"

" I-I'll have the first piece..." Galileo mumbled, stepping forward. Mustapha grinned and placed a slab of cake on a plate and Meat gave him a pat on the back.

" Brave man." Pop said gravely. " If we lose the Dreamer to food poisoning, we know who to blame!"

" Oh please!" Bob the Builder called from the back of the group. " We all know the only reason why he's taking the first piece is because if he doesn't take some of that cake, he won't be getting any tonight!" The crowd all burst out into loud laughter and Galileo blushed deep crimson, but took his plate and a hesitantly ate a bite. He swallowed it slowly and cringed but nodded to Meat, who was watching him intently.

" It's... good." he said in an uncertain voice.

" Okay! Who want's the second piece?" Mustapha called out, hoping that approval of the cake from the Dreamer would convince the rest of them to have a piece.

Still no volunteers.

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

**Ta da! The end of partie un (part one for those who don't speak french)!**


	2. Part 2: What the Hell just happened?

**Finally, the second chapter to Mustapha's 16th birthday! I'm really sorry that this took so long, a lot of stuff came up over the past month and I just didn't have time to update...**

**Sorry bout the spelling mistakes too...**

**Mustapha belongs to Charlie Louie**

**WWRY and all it's wicked characters belong to Ben Elton and Queen**

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________**

A few hours had gone by since the birthday cake fiasco and the party had migrated from Mustapha's room, which was frankly a bit of a tight squeeze for everyone, and to the bar. Scaramouche had come back with and extremely sulky looking Aretha but no gift and Pop had cracked open a few bottles of whiskey. For the older bohemians, the party was really getting started. Most where already drinking and acting like fools, all except for the birthday girl herself.

Mustapha was sitting, sulking more like it, in the corner of the bar. The young bass player was glaring down at the bottle of cola she was drinking, wishing it could be something a little stronger than soda.

" I don't get it!" she was grumbling to herself. " I mean, I am sixteen! Only a year younger than Gaz and Scara where when they came here and had their first drinks!" she growled, her eye scanning the bar until she spotted the Dreamer and his Bad-Arsed Babe sitting with Meat at another small table. She noticed that all three of them had bottles in their hands, but she could see Scaramouche keeping a sharp eye on her. The pink haired girl glared back at the purple haired bohemian and waved her bottle of cola in the air before taking a grudging sip from the bottle.

Mustapha continued sulking in the corner and didn't notice Aretha and Madonna siddle over, followed by Pop, who was holding two bottles of beer in his hands.

" Hey, Phapha, baby!" Aretha hiccuped, patting Mustapha on her hip. Madonna teetered next to her and flopped into a vacant chair with a drunken "oof!". Pop was simply standing there and grinning creepily.

" Hey, Retha, Mads, Pop." Mustapha grumbled, still staring glumly at Scaramouche, Meat and Galileo. Two of the three at that table seemed to be getting tipsier by the second, the third was still watching her like a hawk, her green eyes narrowed slightly.

" Look, hun," Aretha said, bringing Mustapha's attention back to them " We're sorry that Miss Twisted Knickers over there confiscated our gift-"

" Which you would have loved!" Madonna piped up.

" I'm talking Mads!" Aretha hissed " So shut that hole in your face!"

" Bitch."

" Slut."

" Skank!"

" Whore!"

" Ummm... you were saying?" Mustapha asked, raising an eyebrow at the two women.

" Right. I was saying... what was I saying?" Aretha furrowed her brow and Madonna shrugged.

" My gift!" Mustapha sighed in exasperation.

" Oh right, your gift!"

Mustapha nodded and stared up at Aretha with hopeful eyes.

" Well, we're sorry you couldn't get it."

Her face fell.

" But, we can make it up to you!" Madonna trilled, snatching a bottle out of Pop's hands and waving it in her face.

" Just a couple sips of this and you'll forget all your troubles, little babe!" Pop suddenly spoke up, making the other three jump.

Mustapha's eyes light up again. " Oh really?" she asked, reaching out to take the bottle, her fingers just brushed the cool glass.

" Oi!" a loud voice barked.

The little group in the corner all groaned and turned. Walking towards them in her familiar shuffling, stomping way was Scaramouche. The short, purple haired girl looked livid. She was followed more slowly by Galileo and lastly by Meat, who was weaving slightly as she walked and clutching a bottle in one hand.

Scaramouche halted in front of them, her hands on her bony hips, Galileo and Meat trailing after her like ducklings.

" You three better not be giving Mustapha any alcohol!" she growled, eying them then the bottles in their hands.

Aretha rolled her eyes.

" Oh come on Mouche!" she groaned " We love ya and everything, but jeez! You are such a tight arse when it comes to this poor girl!" she nudged Mustapha.

" I am not a tight arse!" Scaramouche scoffed, shaking her head. She spun around and faced Galileo.

"Gaz, am I a tight arse?" she asked, her hands still on her hips.

Galileo spluttered.

" Oh w-w-well.... I-I-I-I mean... It's..it's n-not!" he studdered, barely making any since. Meat decided to step in.

" Ye kinda are, hen." she said, placing a hand on Scaramouche's shoulder. The blond Scot then hiccuped and giggled slightly, taking a swig from her drink. Scaramouche shrugged her hand off.

" You gotta loosen up, babe!" Pop said, waving his hands in the air.

" Well, sorry for being such a tight arse, but I don't want Mustapha running naked through the Heartbreak-"

" Again." Galileo muttered.

"Shut it Gazza!" Scaramouche snapped "Like I said, I don't want her running naked, or waking up in a puddle of her own vomit, or even worse, with some random pervert and having no clue what's going on or why she's with that guy!"

"I've been there." Meat slurred, raising her hand.

"Let me finish!" Scaramouche practically shrieked.

"Sheesh! Someones on the rag!" Aretha said.

"And it's not you this time!" Madonna joked, then yelped when Aretha whacked her in the back of the head.

"Ohhh! That's harsh!" Pop laughed. Scaramouche cast the old librarian a frosty glared and he let out a nervous chuckle and backed away, muttering some nonsense about leaving the oven on back at home.

"Now, I just don't want Mustapha facing anything she isn't ready for!" she finally finished, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mustapha narrowed her eyes and stood up, glaring at Scaramouche. She was pleased to notice that she had to look down, glad to be a few inches taller than the sarcastic guitarist.

"Isn't my decision Mouche?" she asked in a heated tone. "I can make my own choices, I am 16 years old, practically a grown woman! I'm not the same shy, daft kid I was before!"

The two young women stood there for a few tense moments, glaring at each other, then Scaramouche growled slightly and stepped back.

"Fine!" she said, throwing her hands in the air and narrowly missing hitting Galileo in the face. "Drink away Phapha! Get drunk with a massive hangover, lying on the floor and you can only blame yourself!"

********

_**The next day**_

"Ohhhh." Mustapha groaned, blinking her eyes open then shutting them instantly against the abnormally bright light. She rolled over and gingerly blinked one eye open. Big Macca. She closed that eye then blinked open the other one. Still Big Macca. A billion questions were floating around sluggishly in her brain.

_What's going on?_

_Why the hell is Big Macca next to me?_

_Why does my head feel like it's been smashed by hammer?_

_Why am I on the floor?_

_Is that Gaz moaning?_

"Your alive." a dry voice remarked.

Mustapha opened her both her eyes slightly and rolled over again so that she was lying on her back. She found her self staring up at a smug looking Scaramouche. The pink haired girl stood up on wobbly legs, swayed then fell back down on her bum. There was some drunk, gurgling laughter, obviously directed at her. Scaramouche was smirking down at her, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Did you have fun last night?" the Bad-Arsed Babe asked sweetly.

"Uhguguh..." was all she managed to croak in reply. Her throat was parched and her tongue felt leaden.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?" Scaramouche said, cupping a hand over her ear and crouching down.

Mustapha somehow forced herself to stand up once again. The room went into a dizzying spiral, the pain in her head flared and bile rose in the back of her throat. Her pale face took on a greenish tinge and she gagged.

"You better not hurl on me." Scaramouche warned, standing up fully and taking a step back.

Mustapha glared at her and pretended to retch in her direction, dragging herself to the nearest wall and leaning against it, sliding down until she was seated once again. She closed her eyes momentarily then opened them to survey the rest of the bar.

Aretha and Madonna were slowly pulling themselves to their feet, using the other as a type of human ladder. They we're most likely the ones that laughed at her. Galileo was stirring faintly on the ground at the foot of a stool, some dried drool plastered to his cheek. The pile of bleach blond hair, studded leather and fishnets slumped in a corner was obviously Meat. Jackson Five was actually lying on the bar, her arms and legs splayed over the sided of the table. There was a bunch of limbs, leather, jeans and wild hair in the center of the bar that seemed to be consisted of Avril, Charlotte, Shania, Prince, Bob and Clay. Pop was no where to be seen.

"Jaysus." she mumbled, cradling her forehead in her hands.

"You should see how everyone else looks." Scaramouche said, walking over to Galileo and nudging him with the toe of her boot. "Oi! Gazza!"

He woke with a start, bolting upright.

" My lovely lady lumps!" he cried before snapping his mouth shut and reaching up to rub his temples.

" That's nice." Scaramouche snorted. Mustapha moaned once again.

" Don't yell." she groaned, squinting at them. She then looked down and her eyes widened. "What in the name of Freddie is written on me?!"

**____________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**What's written on Mustapha? Will Galileo say more than two lines next time? Did Pop really leave the oven on? Tune in next time to find out!**


End file.
